Quest for more of the outdoors

The end of the summer has been fairly uneventful, Ellen and I working hard, myself on a telecom project for improving the efficiency of mobile base stations (in the new generation of mobile communication technology) and Ellen on musical theatre in Manchester and London (check out the acclaimed production of Parade at the Lowry for which Ellen did set and costume).

I am also meeting with someone whose company develops assistive technology IT solutions to potentially help with the development of these products and getting them out the relevant people. Some of the products they provide are groundbreaking in terms of technology and cost so should provide people with some much-needed low-cost alternatives to many overpriced accessible IT devices.

Today I trialled an off road wheelchair, called a Boma, with 24 inch rear wheels and smaller front wheels. There is up to 8 inches suspension on the back and therefore enables the user much more freedom in terms of accessible terrain. The chair will need adaptions to fit the head control I use, elbow cushions and an appropriate backrest so it is not a small project.

The wheelchair is expensive, and in total probably cost around 9k pounds. This isn’t unreasonable for such a machine but I’m going to have to ask for help with raising the capital. If anyone is willing to help with fundraising ideas or donations, please contact me at “whizz2000 at hotmail dot com” (replace the words “at” and “dot” with the relevant symbols, this is done to avoid spam).

There are plans in the works for a possible holiday to Italy in October and maybe a skiing trip in the winter.

Best wishes to all, hope everyone in the UK is enjoying the late summer Sun.

Finally a Poem I wrote for a very special lady.

Spying toes from under the bed clothes
small faces in line with a larger leader
feet folded over as in silent prayer
resting quiet without a fear

a beauty lying prone
buried like a priceless stone
murmur dialogue from sweet dreams
breathing steady like a metronome

lips pursed in sleep
soft as Moss and the colour of ruby
parted slightly to let teeth peep
a stream carved in a mountain valley

soft rolling hills of her back
gently shift like the Earth
feet stretch and retreat inside the crack
slumber now loosend and slack

to survey like a wary otter
up an unconscious head flies
active only by instinct
with Eyes wild like butterflies